


In the darkness with you

by sass_bot



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, injury mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:07:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25430620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sass_bot/pseuds/sass_bot
Summary: When Neria goes to the Fade, she's haunted by her demons -- her responsibility, her blame -- but Solas is her tether, reminding her that she's more than the whispers that hound her in her sleep.Requested by @sopml
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	In the darkness with you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sopml](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sopml/gifts).



The dirt is moist against Neria’s bare feet as she takes step after weary step through the ruins of Adamant. The once impenetrable fortress is now nothing more than pillars and arches buried underneath the acrid atmosphere of the Fade. She tries to inhale but her breath catches in her throat, as though her very lungs have been caught in shackles.

Swirls of Fade emerald are reflected in her eyes as she walks past the wardens of her prison – the faces that won’t leave her alone. The battered and bruised face of Jean-Marc Stroud stares listlessly at her, his lips split and bloodied underneath his horseshoe moustache. An Inquisition soldier – she cannot be older than 20 years old – stands so motionlessly that Neria almost does not notice the arrow still protruding from her chest. To her right, she sees another – one of Leliana’s scouts, blood seeping out from beneath his helmet and onto his forehead. And to her left, another, clutching their dislocated arm to their side.

Something rustles her hair, causing her to nearly jump out of her skin. She turns around but there’s nobody there. And when she turns back, she sees a stranger wearing her face, standing far too close for comfort, and a pair of familiar eyes, encircled by branching veins of pulsating red lyrium.

_“You’re just a child – a pretender –"_ It drags the last word out like a sword from a sheath. There is the undertone of a growl in its tone. _“Toying with forces beyond your ken.”_

Other-Neria’s face is hot with wrath, its vallaslin glowing white like flames. Behind its eyes, is the blaze that once swallowed Haven whole. Its hands snap forward and grab her shoulders; its jagged nail dig into her skin.

Neria’s voice – the real Neria – begs to come out, to scream, to cry for help.

Corypheus’s low, rumbling voice speaks through the puppet that looks like Neria, lingering agonizingly on every single word. _“Beg that I succeed –”_

“No!” she shrieks, but the sound clings to the back of her throat.

Then, all at once, there is darkness and the shackles are dropped.

She feels the clean air of Skyhold embrace her, and her body shudders to awareness. She sits up in her bed, eyes darting around the room, trying to take in her surroundings. There is nothing left of the Fade, but the fog enveloping her mind. Her breath comes out in short, rapid gasps, like a woman starved for air, and tears of agony begin to well up in her eyes. Her heart beats against her chest as an animal caged.

Like a lantern shining through the fog, she registers a word softly spoken into her ear and arms tightly wrapped around her torso.

“Ea’atisha, ma’lath.” _Be calm, my love._ “You’re here with me.”

The tension in Neria’s body begins to ease and a sob slips through her lips, followed by another and another. Before long, the sound of her weeping ushers the silence out of the room.

“Listen to the sound of my voice…” Solas says, nuzzling his face into her hair, his lips ghosting over the tip of her ear.

She bends her elbows inward to grasp his forearms, allowing her body to wearily melt into his. Her shoulders are still shaking like a tree in a storm, and so he holds on even more firmly.

“You’re here, Neria,” he tells her, and buries his head into the curve of her neck. “Just breathe in deeply, my love.”

Neria begins to feel her body droop, no longer strung up like a puppet on strings. Her eyes, which still sting with salty tears, gently close as she breathes in deeply through her nose, and exhales slowly through her mouth.

“That’s it. Once more.” She feels his chest expand against her back as he inhales.

In… and then out…

She can feel the weight return to her body and becomes acutely aware of how painfully Solas’s arms are wrapped around her. She fidgets uncomfortably and he instantly relaxes his grip, his arms now resting loosely around her belly.

“Thank you, Vhenan…” Neria finally says, her dry throat causing the words to come out in a weak croak. She turns around to face him, kneeling between his legs, and drapes her arms around his neck. She leans in and places a chaste kiss against his jaw.

His fingers move gingerly through her auburn tresses and down her back. “You were having nightmares.” He feels her body stiffen slightly against him. “Would you like to talk about it?”

She shrugs, and Solas knows not to press the matter further.

“Would you like me to tell you about an old legend – a tale I heard from a spirit of Bravery in the Fade?”

She nods into his shoulder.

He lets out a breathy chuckle and briefly pulls away from her, only to gently lay her down on her pillows, her hair spread around her head like the branches of a Vhenadahl. His heart jolts at the sight of her glistening eyes, glazed over with exhaustion and longing in equal measure.

Solas pulls the covers over Neria before lounging beside her, propping his elbow against the pillow and resting his head against his knuckles. She gives him a sleepy smile that he can’t help but return.

“The spirit tells of a young elf, with eyes of fire and ember heart, whose actions morphed the fate of her people. She called herself Ivun, and, when faced with destiny’s cruel hand, she threw it back and forged a path her own.”

He reaches down to idly stroke her hair with his free hand.

“Was she Dalish?”

He nods. “Her clan had settled in a wood sited on the border of Tevinter. The fated night when humans would bring with them a call to war the keeper bowed her head and chose surrender.”

“And where was Ivun?”

“On a hunt. She came to find the humans smug, counting their riches and the spoils of their undeserved victory.”

Neria absentmindedly reaches for the hand that is stroking her hair and pulls it close to her face. “What did she do next?”

“She then took upon herself the mantle of the leader and gathered all her hunters and her warriors. Her bold words would go on to spur a once defeated people into action.”

“I wish I was as fearless as she had been,” Neria remarks dejectedly.

Solas settles down into the pillow, his face inches from hers and caresses her damp cheek. “Do not mistake bravery for fearlessness, Vhenan. You are here, in spite of the fear that you feel. Everything that you are inspires the people who follow you, the people who spread your message – inspires _me._ Never forget that.”

“I wish I could believe that,” she mumbles, resting her forehead against his.

He tilts his head up to place a gentle kiss between her brows. “Then I’ll tell you however many times I have to.”


End file.
